Chapter 11: The Test

Once she'd steadied herself a little, Megan helped her back to the table.

The second they got close, the smell of beef hit her again.

Joy's stomach heaved, and she was up and running for the bathroom before she could stop it.

This round was worse than the first.

Megan flagged down a server for a bag and wrapped the offending burger up in layer after layer of paper.

When Joy came back out, she sagged against the wall like every ounce of strength had drained out of her, leaning into Megan for support.

Megan studied her ashen face, voice going serious. "We're going to the hospital."

Joy shook her head weakly. "No Mr. Cross has an international call this afternoon, I can't miss it."

She caught her breath, trying to talk herself down. "It's just stress. I'll grab something for my stomach at the pharmacy. Really, it's nothing."

"Fine pharmacy now. But if you're still sick tomorrow, we're going to a doctor. No arguing."

"Okay."

Joy forced a smile.

They passed a dried fruit stand on the way.

Joy stopped dead.

A vendor out front was calling out over a tray of samples: "Fresh in today try our sour plums!"

Joy's mouth watered before she even registered wanting it. "I want some of that."

"Let's go look."

They each grabbed a toothpick, speared a piece, and popped it in.

"Hiss" Megan's whole face crumpled in agony. "Oh my god, that's unbearably sour!"

Joy chewed hers without so much as a flinch, eyebrows relaxed. "It's fine. Not that sour."

"Not sour?" Megan stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "Did you lose your sense of taste? My teeth are practically dissolving!"

"Maybe yours was a bad piece." Joy speared another, savoring it slowly.

It was, genuinely, delicious.

Megan watched her go through three in a row and actually shivered, hand pressed to her own cheek.

Joy ended up buying a full bag, popping one every few minutes as they walked.

At the pharmacy, Joy described her symptoms to the doctor on duty.

The older man adjusted his glasses, looked her over, then let his gaze settle with a slight frown on the bag of sour plums in her hand.

"Could be something you ate, could be a cold, or... miss, when was your last period?"

Everything went white for a second. Joy's pulse spiked, her breath coming fast.

Her fingers tightened around the plastic bag. She forced a stiff smile, eyes darting.

"I've been under a lot of stress at work lately. That can throw things off. It's happened before probably just hormones."

"Right, right," Megan cut in breezily, "Doctor, just get her something good for her stomach."

"Of course."

Joy nodded quickly. "Yes it's a stomach issue. Chronic, actually. Old problem of mine."

The doctor, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to push, turned to the shelf behind him, muttering to himself just loud enough to carry.

"Pregnant patients have to be very careful with medication. The wrong thing at the wrong time can cause real harm..."

Every word landed like a blow straight to Joy's chest.

She heard every syllable. Her heart hammered.

Hands shaking, she took the stomach medicine, paid, and murmured a thank-you.

"Joy?"

"Hm?" She blinked back into focus.

Megan was giving her a strange look. "Where'd you go? I've been talking to you for a full minute."

"Sorry." Joy's smile came out paler than before. "Thinking about this afternoon's meeting materials. What did you say?"

"You want the burger back, or should I just give it to HR?"

"Take it, I'm not touching it." Joy glanced toward a convenience store up ahead. "Go on without me I need to grab something for Mr. Cross."

"Okay. Don't forget to take your medicine tonight."

"I will."

Joy watched Megan disappear down the street, and the moment she was alone, her legs gave out. She caught herself against the wall, breathing hard, whispering to herself.

No. No, you took the emergency contraception. You're fine. You're fine.

Back in the executive suite.

Nathaniel sat with a headset on, mid-way through an international video call.

He leaned back in his chair, posture loose but somehow still commanding, fluent French rolling off his tongue low, deliberate, with just enough of an accent to make it sound effortless.

Joy pressed her palms flat against her knees, using the discomfort to drag her scattered focus back into place.

Her fingers moved fast across the keyboard, capturing every figure, every clause.

Half an hour later, Nathaniel pulled off the headset and closed the file.

He glanced over at her, brow furrowing slightly.

"You don't look well. Are you sick?"

Joy's heart stuttered. She turned her face away instinctively, busying herself with the recorder on the table, keeping her voice level.

"It's nothing a little stomach trouble."

Something flickered across his face concern. "Did you see a doctor?"

"Thank you for asking, sir. I already took something for it. I'm fine." She kept her eyes down.

Watching her fold in on herself like that, his tone softened.

"You don't need to drive me tonight. Wrap up the notes and head home early."

"Okay. I'll finish the meeting minutes first."

Joy picked up her laptop and turned to go.

Just as her hand touched the door, his voice stopped her.

"When's the company's annual health screening scheduled?"

She froze mid-motion, hand still on the handle.

"December, usually, sir," she managed.

Nathaniel tapped two fingers against the desk, thinking it over. "Too far out. For the sake of everyone's health, move it up to next month."

"Understood. I'll arrange it right away."

Joy pushed through the door in a daze and made it back to her desk.

Hands trembling, she pulled her headphones back on and hit play.

Nathaniel's low, unhurried French filled her ears every word sliding past without registering at all.

She yanked the headphones off and bit down hard on her lip.

Guilt twisted through her. She checked the room everyone absorbed in their own work, no one watching.

She held her breath, grabbed her bag, tucked its contents up her sleeve, and slipped toward the restroom.

Ten minutes stretched out like an hour.

Two lines.

Positive.

The blood drained out of Joy's face all at once.

Her eyes went wide, pupils shrinking to pinpricks, a wave of panic crashing over her from every direction at once.

Clatter.

She flung the test away like it had burned her.

It hit the stall door with a sharp, hollow crack.